In the mayhem of a catastrophe and the rush to cover it,
journalists spout numbers on damages and deaths often immune to the full
human toll. But, a volunteer at an Austin, Tex., relief center has issued
a call for Americans to take time to listen to the stories of Katrina
victims. The call has a special meaning for journalists who may be talking
to victims for stories and may not realize the higher purpose their interviews
can serve -- meeting the needs of victims to share their experiences with
other human beings.

Clinton's article, below, is a call for journalists all
over the country, rural and urban alike, to get out there and spend time
talking to evacuees – not just to do stories, but to use their interviewing
and interpersonal skills, even on their own time, to give these folks
what they desperately need – someone to tell their stories to. --Al
Cross and Bill Griffin, Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues

Katrina’s GhostsBy Ryan Clinton

Last week, I worked the night shift --- 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. -- a couple
of times at Austin's Red Cross shelter for hurricane evacuees. Though
the number changes daily, there were probably around three thousand New
Orleans residents remaining at the shelter at the time. Food, clothing,
phones and showers are provided for them; all of the most basic needs
are met.

What has touched me most, however, is the need of the people
there for nothing else but to be heard.

Among many others, I talked to a 90-years-young, nearly blind widow who
is terrified because she has never before been outside of New Orleans,
has no home or family, and struggles to believe that she won't be thrown
out on the streets. Her greatest hope is that a stranger or two at the
shelter will find an apartment and take her in.

A 69-year-old caregiver of her 44-year-old son, who she watched die before
authorities arrived to evacuate them by boat. She left her son’s
body in the attic of her home. "I killed my son," she says of
her decision not to evacuate.

A 70-year-old woman who waded through chest-high water to make it to
an interstate overpass, where she spent the next 5 days without water
or food in the company of thousands.

A retired military nurse who lives on disability; he has no idea where
his friends and neighbors are, and keeps mostly to himself at the shelter.

While I was walking around my designated "room" (of some 1000
persons, I would estimate) of the shelter one morning, talking to people
who couldn't sleep or woke up early, I ran into a woman who was packing
her belongings. This is usually a good sign, meaning she has found a place
to go. I asked where she was headed, and she said, "My job is relocating
to Houston, so I'm flying to Houston this morning." I asked what
she did for a living, and she answered: "I'm an attorney."

She fully concedes that she should have evacuated New Orleans. "I
got out too late," she says. As her apartment filled with water,
she located a neighbor's teenage son outside. Together they were rescued
by authorities and dropped off at the New Orleans Convention Center, where
they spent the next 5 days and nights. She calls those days "unspeakable,"
but says she must nonetheless tell the story.

It was a scene of complete lawlessness, with no police or National Guard.
The only food or water around was that provided by generous looters, and
that was not nearly enough. Armed teenagers shot at the crowd in drive-by
shootings, using the roads that the government couldn't seem to find.
There were a large number of rapes, with women being followed into the
bathrooms. Apparently, there was also a pedophile among them, and each
night in the complete darkness inside, the screams of a mother for her
missing daughter resonated throughout. There were large, raging fights
involving hundreds. She and her neighbor slept in shifts, so that someone
remained awake at all times.

She, like many others, believed that the world had abandoned her at the
N.O. Convention Center. She saw the news helicopters flying above, and
at least took comfort in the idea that someone was watching, even if only
to report their deaths. She was actually interviewed by a French television
crew, another group able to use the roads the government couldn't locate.
After days with little water, her feet and legs became increasingly swollen.
Because she takes medicine for blood clots, she thought it was only a
matter of time before she died. A day longer, and she says she probably
would have taken the entire, full bottle of the prescription medicine
she had in her purse. Ultimately, she was rescued from the facility and
flown to Austin.

She, of course, was one of the more fortunate ones at the shelter because
she has a job and a place to go. Those remaining in shelters across the
country will have to find new homes, new churches, and new friends in
new cities. Please take a moment today to consider ways you might be able
to help.

Ryan Clinton is an assistant solicitor general in the Texas attorney
general’s office. He is a native of Baton Rouge, La.

Institute
for Rural Journalism & Community Issues

University of Kentucky College
of Communications & Information Studies